Star Trek:  The Solaris Chronicles
by Swordtail
Summary: Set shortly after Star Trek: Celestial Season 2, the crew of the USS Solaris are sent to infiltrate the Orion Syndicate and capture Chester...again.
1. Chapter 1

_Alllllrighty...This is a spin-off of a spin-off of a spin-off of a parody of a spin-off of the greatest science fiction television show of the mid twentieth century_._ Since I doubt anyone knows what I'm talking about, I'll just say that it's a spin-off of Star Trek: Celestial (Season 1 and 2 are kicking around this site somewhere). This is set just after Season 2 finishes, so if you're planning on reading Celestial, don't read this yet or there might be spoilers (and by "might," I mean I put them in deliberately). Feel free to criticize my work as much as you like (I'll either ignore you or agree with you). Here is part one:_

* * *

Star Trek: The Solaris Chronicles

Episode 1 - More Ways to Skin A Cat

By Swordtail

Part One

"Captain's Log, stardate 59653.4. Captain Righteous Lee is alive, apparently. Sucks to be the Celestial."

Captain Ketrell Valen walked down the corridor, talking seemingly to himself as no-name dime a dozen crewmembers gave him odd looks as he passed.

"Fleet Admiral Spot has ordered Admiral Nelix to order us to go after the Orion Syndicate before they try something stupid. In case you didn't hear, the Federation, Klingons, Romulans, and Cardassians just nearly got their butts kicked by a rogue faction of the Dominion."

Ketrell walked out of a turbolift onto the bridge of the USS Solaris. His senior staff looked up, then went back to work, oblivious to his rambling Captain's Log.

"Almost a third of the Federation fleet was destroyed. If I was a deranged cat with galactic domination on the mind, this would be the perfect time to strike...despite having lost most of my fleet as well."

Command Nezna Ren, Ketrell's trill first officer, suddenly perked up.

"Oh wait, don't tell me, we've been ordered to go after Chester because we're pretty much the only ship still working," she said with a hint of annoyance.

"I sent you all a memo, didn't you read your email this morning?" Ketrell asked the bridge staff. Everyone gave him blank stares.

"OK we'll do this the old fashioned way," the captain said with a roll of his eyes, "Briefing in an hour. Don't be late."

Ketrell turned to walk out of the room when he suddenly realized that he hadn't told the computer to stop recording his log, so it had picked up the entire conversation.

"Prophets damn it, now I'll have to do it all over again!"

* * *

Sure enough, an hour later, Captain Ketrell was the only one present in Solaris' briefing room, drumming his fingers against the wooden table. 

"Computer, what time is it?" he asked.

"They're fifteen minutes late," came the synthesized reply. Practically on cue, the doors opened and the entire senior staff filed in, trying to hide grins.

"You guys just like pissing me off, don't you?" Ketrell asked them.

"Yep," came the quick reply from Lieutenant Tevarin, the Tiburonian Operations officer.

"A little humour never killed anyone," Doctor Chris Samson said. The senior staff took their seats.

"First, how are the repairs coming?" Ketrell asked no one in particular.

"Weapons would be online already," Lieutenant-Commander Richard Adair started, "if our absent minded chief engineer here hadn't totally forgotten we need them."

Lieutenant-Command Dalarsh stopped staring out the window and snapped back to reality.

"What? Oh!" she said, "Warp drive is coming along nicely, but weapons are another story. We grazed one of those chroniton beams. The radiation fried the torpedo guidance systems on all of our torpedoes and the phaser emitters are mostly ka-put"

"I said I was sorry," Lieutenant Frell muttered as she looked down at the table.

Ketrell picked up a PADD and made some notes on it, then passed it to his Andorian engineer. She looked at it and saw the words "FIX THE DAMN WEAPONS!" written in big bold letters.

"Alright! I'll fix the stupid weapons! But why do we need them so badly?"

"Which brings us to our main order of business," Ketrell said, "You all know that the Orion Syndicate, led by Chester, helped us during the battle. Well, Chester managed to get away."

"Barely," Adair commented, "Most of his Gorn and Breen allies were vapourized by the wormhole."

"Well he poses a huge threat to the Federation at this point," Ketrell continued, "Starfleet is in shambles and can't devote the resources necessary to defend the Gorn and Breen borders."

"If Chester were to launch a full scale attack now," Tevarin noted, "we could be looking at another occupation in less than a week."

"So how do we fit into this?" Ren asked.

"We're going to take down Chester." Ketrell replied.

"The Celestial tried to do that a year ago, and if I recall, it didn't work out that well," Adair said.

"The USS Celestial is full of morons," Ketrell countered, "Besides, they simply locked Chester up in a maximum security prison. This time we're going to put him in cryogenic stasis and lock him up in the Bank of Bolias, the most secure institution in the Federation."

"Um, as I recall, that bank was robbed three times this week alone," Frell pointed out.

"This is true," Ketrell said, "but I don't feel like arguing with Admiral Spot. I always lose."

"How does Starfleet Command intend for us to infiltrate the Syndicate?" Samson asked.

Ketrell sort of scratched his head.

"They left that up to us, sort of," he said, "I'll let you know once I finish making up my plan. Dismissed."

"You want me to do _what?_" Sa'lol asked, wide eyed at what her captain had just told her.

"It's not that complicated," Ketrell told her, "All you have to do is pretend to be a Romulan scientist who wants to see the end of the Federation. Chester will love you from the start!"

"I don't even like cats!" the vulcan argued, "Or Romulans! And in case you didn't know, I'm not a Romulan!"

"Vulcans and Romulans are pretty much the same species," Ketrell explained to her, "And you're the only vulcan on the ship that doesn't suppress his or her emotions to the point of being a terrible actor."

Sa'lol stared pacing around the room and muttering to herself.

"Mother always told me I should try harder to control my emotions, but did I listen to her? No! I didn't!" Ketrell simply ignored her.

"You're the best person for the job," he said, "Commander Ren and I just spent the last three hours going over the plan. All you have to do is follow it and play along. You just basically have to get near Chester and then let us do the rest."

"I can't believe this!" Sa'lol said, exasperated, "Do you know what the Orion Syndicate does to traitors?"

"Nope," Ketrell said, now reading a report on his computer.

"Well...they...do...things."

"Go to sickbay, the doctor is expecting you."

"I don't even want to know why," Sa'lol muttered as she stormed out of the room.

* * *

"We've reached the Farias system, sir," Frell said, hitting some buttons and taking Solaris out of warp before someone gave her the blatantly obvious order. 

"Did you put us in that comet cluster yet?" Commander Ren asked her.

"Yes ma'am," the bolian replied.

Ketrell entered from the turbolift.

"We've reached the Farias system, captain," Ren told him.

"Frell, did you hide us behind that comet cluster?" Ketrell asked his helmswoman. Frell simply shook her head and turned back to the helm, but Ren saw it necessary to inject a snarky remark.

"No captain, she parked us over Farias Prime and began broadcasting our entire plan to the Orian Syndicate!"

Sa'lol walked onto the bridge, looking quite annoyed.

"Ah, Lieutenant," Ren greeted her, "Are you ready to go?"

"I've got a subdermal transponder implanted in the back of my neck," Sa'lol complained, "It itches like crazy."

"Sir," Tevarin said, "The Tellarite freighter is within range...I think. Lots of sensor interference."

"Wait," Adair said, thinking, "If we're hidden in this comet cluster, will that freighter be able to see where we parked?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth, the bridge shook from the impact of the Tellerite freighter hitting Solaris. Ketrell let out a sigh of disgust and shook his head.

"Damage report," he said.

"Minor damage to our shields," Tevarin replied, "but the freighter has suffered a hull breach and some damage to their engines."

"Wow that Tellerite has no luck with Starfleet ships," Frell commented.

"Lieutenant, report to transporter room one," Ketrell ordered his reluctant science officer.

"Alright, I'm going! You guys owe me, big time!"

* * *

Meanwhile, while the crew of Solaris were putting their well-thought-out plan into motion, Chester, the head of the Orion Syndicate, was down on Farias Prime, locked away in a back room somewhere, sniffing some catnip. 

"Damn this is the good stuff," he said in a purring tone of voice, "Start selling this on the black market right away! This is gonna make us rich...er!"

The two henchmen in the room bowed to him and left. Elsewhere, Sa'lol, dressed in civilian clothes, was standing outside a large building, looking back and forth between a PADD she was holding and the sign above the building's door.

"'Orion Vacuums Syndicated?'" she asked the universe, "This could be easier than I thought."

She tossed the PADD into some nearby bushes and walked inside. At the reception desk, a secretary greeted her.

"Welcome to Orion Vacuums Syndicated: We really suck! How can I help you?"

"I'm here to apply for the job opening I saw in the paper," Sa'lol replied. The secretary's face lit up and she got out of her chair.

"Right this way," she motioned with her hands for Sa'lol to follow her down the hallway. "We were hoping someone like you would apply!"

The Vulcan followed the overly eager Farian into a conference room and motioned for her to sit in one of the chairs. The secretary sat in the opposite chair and pulled out a notebook.

"First, what's your name?" the secretary turned interviewer asked.

"Sa'lol," the lieutenant blurted out without thinking. She grimaced as soon as she said it, but the other woman didn't seem to notice. The rest of the interview went fairly well, resulting in Sa'lol being offered a job working in the Research and Development department of the company. After she left the office building, wearing a fake grin and clinging to a PADD-like thing, she continuously hit her forehead with her free hand.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid! Who gives their real name?!"

* * *

"Sa'lol?" Chester was reading the report his secretary had compiled on the Vulcan. 

"Yeah, and I can't really tell if she's a Vulcan or a Romulan," the secretary told the furry cat.

"Did you check our stolen Starfleet records?"

"Yes," the secretary replied, "I found two Vulcan's named 'Sa'lol' in the Ninth Fleet alone. It seems to be a very common name...or whatever."

"Well no one would be stupid enough to use their real name when going undercover," Chester stated, "Besides, her scientific expertise would be invaluable to us. Let's just give her the benefit of the doubt for now. Did you use the standard personality probe questions?"

"She isn't exactly fond of the Federation, if that's what you're wondering."

"Excellent," Chester purred, "See how she does in R&D for vacuum cleaners. If she's as good as her resume shows, we'll move her up into the main organization."

A nameless henchman burst in, waving his hands frantically.

"Boss!" he yelled, "We've got a problem!"

* * *

In Solaris' messhall, Commander Ren walked up to the wet bar and ordered some drinks. 

"Barkeep!" she yelled at the ensign running the bar at the time, "Two beers and a Saurian brandy!"

The ensign, who looked like she had been out of the academy for a grand total of five minutes, fumbled with the replicator for the two beers. Then, after handing them to her commander, she reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle of brandy and a glass. As she started to put ice in the glass, Ren rolled her eyes and grabbed the whole bottle from her. She took the three beverages over to a table where Lieutenant-Commander Adair and Doctor Samson were already sitting.

"Isn't it a little too early to be drinking straight from the bottle?" Adair asked her, cautiously.

"It's synthahol, it's never too early," Ren replied.

Out the window, comet fragments could be seen bouncing against the ship's shields. Samson was the first to ask the question that had been nagging both him and Adair for hours.

"Any word from Sa'lol?"

"Nothing," Ren told them, "but we could simply be keeping radio silence."

"Are you command guys going to tell us the rest of this plan?" Adair asked.

"Not right now," Ren replied, and then added, "To be honest we're kind of making it up as we go along."

Samson and Adair looked slightly stunned.

"Does Sa'lol know this?" Samson asked.

"I sure hope not," Ren muttered to herself as she downed the last of the Saurian brandy. Suddenly, the red alert klaxons went off."

"All hands to battlestations," Lieutenant Tevarin's voice said over the comm system. The three officers raced out the door with the rest of the crew, all except for the green ensign tending bar.

"Uh...where do I go?" she asked the emptying room. No one answered her. She sat down and poured herself a drink.

"I guess I just stay here...heh heh heh..."

On the bridge, Ketrell, Frell, Tevarin, and several crewmembers were already present when Ren and Adair walked out of the turbolift.

"What's going on?" Ren asked as she and Adair took their seats.

"A Breen warship is entering the comet cluster," Kertrell told her, "They will be within weapons range in less than a minute."

"How did they find us?" Adair asked. Ketrell simply shrugged and shook his head.

"Don't know. Maybe they haven't. It could be a routine patrol."

"Well I hope you're right," Adair said back to him and to the entire bridge, "because our weapons are still offline and that thing could level an entire planet if it wanted to.

Everyone looked at the odd-shaped ship approaching on the viewscreen, concerned looks crossing their faces.

"Well," Ren started, "That plan went down the toilet pretty quick."

To Be Continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Star Trek: The Solaris Chronicles

Episode 1 - More Ways to Skin A Cat

By Swordtail

Part Two

"Divert auxiliary power to the shields!" Captain Ketrell screamed over the sound of exploding ship. Around him, Solaris was being torn apart under the fire of a Breen battleship.

"Main power is falling," Lieutenant Tevarin said, "They've gotten us with that energy dampening weapon...again!"

"Try remodulating the deflector field," Commander Ren told him. Behind her, a console exploded, killing a yellow-shirt crewman.

"We can't take much more of this, captain!" Lieutenant Commander Adair said while frantically trying to fire Solaris' inoperative weapons.

Ketrell thought about it for a moment and made a decision. "Set a course for DS9, maximum warp."

"What about Lieutenant Sa'lol?" Lieutenant Frell asked as she input the course in the navigational computer.

"We'll have to come back for her," Ren said.

"Engage," Ketrell ordered, and Solaris, still under siege from the Breen ship, turned away from Farius Prime and went to warp, barely.

* * *

In an apartment on Farius Prime, Sa'lol was tapping the back of her neck while scanning herself with a tricorder.

"Sa'lol to Solaris," she said for the tenth time, "Someone please answer me!"

No sound came out of the sub-dermal transponder implanted in the back of her neck.

"Well I suppose it's safe to assume the plan went to shit."

She took out a medical device from her tool kit and removed the communications device from under her skin. She placed it in a small bottle and put all her Starfleet technology back in the tool kit. Hiding the box under the bed, she pulled on her trenchcoat and left the building.

Walking down the dark street, the Vulcan passed a small alcove in the building next to her and someone who was hidden the shadows called out.

"You're not thinking of leaving the planet, are you?"

Sa'lol jumped about three metres to the right before regaining her composure.

"Don't DO that!" she yelled at the stranger.

"Calm down, Lieutenant," the person said, "All I meant was that leaving the planet would certainly piss off Admiral Spot. You've got a mission to complete, don't you?"

Sa'lol quickly reached in and pulled the man out by the front of his coat, revealing him to be about 4 foot 2 and very old looking.

"How do you know all that!?" she yelled in the old man's face. The man simply grabbed her by the forearm and tossed her over his back. Sa'lol landed with a thud.

"No need to yell," he said as he reached over and picked up a cane, "I may have a slight bowel control problem, but I'm not deaf."

"Apparently not," Sa'lol said, checking herself for internal injuries, "Now, answer my question, because I can assure you I won't be as easy to flip next time."

The man motioned for her to follow him. He opened a door on the side of the building and stepped inside. Sa'lol picked herself off the pavement, shrugged her shoulders, and followed him in.

"To answer your first question, I know many things. To answer your second question, you may call me whatever you please."

"How bout I call you Carl," Sa'lol said, not liking to be predicted.

"Works for me," said Carl. He closed the door behind his guest and turned on the lights. They were inside a dark and dingy looking room with a single light and an easychair.

"Alright, so you know who I am," Sa'lol said, looking around the room, "and I'm assuming you know my situation. Why shouldn't I leave the planet?"

"Your ship was found," Carl told her, "but they managed to get away. They've gone to Deep Space Nine."

"Oh perfect," Sa'lol said, throwing her arms in the air in defeat.

"But they'll be back," Carl continued, "Just improvise for the time being."

"Any words of wisdom," Sa'lol asked, "you seem to know practically everything else."

"Only this," the man said, "There's an old human proverb. 'Give a man a match, and he'll be warm for a few minutes. But light a man on fire, and he'll be warm for the rest of his life.'"

The Vulcan simply raised an eyebrow.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Carl continued, "it's time for my afternoon nap."

With that, the old man promptly fell asleep in the easychair. Sa'lol backed out of the building and turned back toward her own apartment once on the street.

"I think this mission is getting to me," she said to herself, "The Captain had better come through in spades for this!"

* * *

"What do you fuckers want now?" Admiral Nelix was not pleased to see Ketrell and Ren in Deep Space Nine's lower docking pylon airlock, "I was just about to leave for Earth."

"Our plan went to shit, sir," Ren told the angry cat.

"Oh, really, I wouldn't have known, what with the Breen weapons signatures all over your ship's hull!"

"Sir, we need to get our science officer back," Ketrell said.

"Meh, science officers are a dime a dozen anyway," Nelix told him with a wave of his paw.

"That's true," Ren said, "but just think of all the top secret Starfleet knowledge she could be forced to tell the Syndicate. Sounds like a lot of paperwork for you, sir."

"Fine," Nelix said, rolling his eyes, "I'll get you a civilian ship to use to go back and pick up your emotionally confused Vulcan friend."

With that, Nelix trotted away, muttering about the incompetence of his underlings.

"...Can't do ONE simple task!"

* * *

"Captain's log, stardate 59658.9," Ketrell said as he walked down a corridor onboard Solaris, "after two days, that ship Admiral Nelix promised us has arrived. Unfortunately, we have to buy it from a Ferengi businessman. I hate Ferengi so I ordered Commander Ren to take care of the transaction."

Ketrell smiled to himself and continued on his way. Meanwhile, in the shuttlebay, Comander Ren and Lieutenant-Commander Dalarsh stood with their mouths hanging open as the most decrepit generic shuttlecraft they had ever seen sat before them.

"I sure hope there's been some mistake," Ren said.

The shuttle's hatch literally fell off as the occupant opened it. A poorly dressed Ferengi stepped out and, all smiles, greeted the two officers.

"Ah, you must be the buyers," he said, putting on the charm, "This beauty here will fit the bill nicely."

As they watched, a large hull plate broke loose and fell to the deck with a loud clang.

"Is that thing safe?" Dalarsh asked.

"Of course it's safe," the Ferengi assured her, "It's just a little used, that's all."

"Do you think you can fix it up, chief?" Ren asked the Andorian.

"Maybe, but I wouldn't recommend we travel far in it," Dalarsh replied.

"I can assure you this baby will get you where you need to go with deuterium to spare," the Ferengi continued, "And if can be yours for only fourteen bars of gold pressed latinum!"

"I might consider fourteen slips," Ren said, sarcastically.

"Sold!" the Ferengi said eagerly, holding out a standard Ferengi PADD. Ren, rolling her eyes, put her thumb print on the device and the Ferengi's smile got even wider.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you," he said as he walked quickly from the room. Dalarsh started examining the shuttle with her tricorder.

"I think we would have better luck fixing the entire Ninth Fleet and going to Farius Prime in force, ma'am," Dalarsh said with a sigh, "Looks like having the weekend off is a no-go."

"Just get an engineering team on it right away," the commander told her, "Valen wants this ready by the time we get within three lightyears of the Farius system."

"Tell the captain we'd better take the long way," Dalarsh said as she picked up the broken hull plate.

Ren shrugged her shoulders and left the shuttlebay. Dalarsh tried to put the missing hull piece back in place but it kept falling out. In frustration, she kicked the shuttle and more hull plates fell off.

* * *

On Farius Prime, in a massive hanger under the capital city, Chester, standing on a milk crate, gazed up at his prize possession. Above him, resting on massive girders, was the Orion Syndicate Ship OSS Hairball, a heavily modified Sovereign Class starship given to him by Section 31 to help him distract everyone from their actions prior to the Rogue Dominion invasion. If that doesn't make sense, don't worry about it. Crews of henchmen were working on repairing the battle damage the ship had suffered and it appeared they were almost done.

The secretary from Orion Vacuums Syndicated came in leading Sa'lol. They both walked up to Chester.

"Here's the woman I was telling you about," the secretary told her boss, "the scientist who invented that new liquid compressor that's going to make millions."

The secretary left them and exited the room. Sa'lol looked around, sizing up the situation, and not really paying attention to the ship.

"So," Chester said, still gazing at the ship, "What do you think of her?"

"Well she's attractive, but I doubt I'm her type," Sa'lol said, apparently talking about his secretary. Chester turned to look at her.

"I meant the ship!" he hissed.

"Oh," Sa'lol said, "Yeah it looks fine. What's it doing here?"

"It suffered battle damage, and needs to be repaired."

"Why don't you use a shipyard," Sa'lol asked, acting dumb.

"Our organization isn't exactly...sanctioned by the Federation," Chester said, testing her.

"The Federation isn't exactly all it's cracked up to be," Sa'lol said, without missing a beat.

"Our thoughts exactly," Chester said, smiling (about as well as a cat can), "Now, we still need a science officer, so I thought of you."

"Thanks, I'm honoured," Sa'lol said, then, "Why, are we going on a trip?"

"Uh huh," Chester said, now staring at the ship again, "The Federation is at its weakest right now, we could easily liberate half a dozen worlds before Starfleet could mobilize their forces."

"Sounds like a plan," Sa'lol said, hiding her shock at the suddenness of the planned attack, "When do we leave?"

"In five hours. Go pack."

Sa'lol walked quickly toward the elevator that would take her out of the hanger, a concerned look on her face.

"Son of a bitch!"

* * *

In Shuttle Bay 2, on Solaris, Ketrell stepped into the old shuttle, where Lieutenant-Commander Dalarsh and a crew of engineers were welding things back into place.

"What's the verdict?" he asked his chief engineer.

"Beats me," Dalarsh said, "I've been just working on the aft power coupling for the past three hours. Ask one of these guys if it will fly or not."

One of the nameless yellow shirts spoke up.

"It'll fly, but not smoothly," he said, "Take plenty of barf bags."

Lieutenant-Commander Adair stepped aboard and looked around.

"Holy..." he said, letting his jaw drop, "The Commander wasn't kidding around about this thing."

"Are you ready?" Ketrell asked him.

"Let's see," Adair said, counting on his fingers, "Compression rifles, photon grenades, transporter scramblers, micro-photon torpedo launcher, and a year's supply of phaser power packs. Yep, I'm ready."

"Did you pack barf bags?" Ketrell asked him.

"What?"

"I'll tell you later," the captain continued, "Dalarsh, are you done yet?"

"I guess so," she said, "Try it. Everyone else get away from this thing, in case it explodes."

"In case it _explodes?_" Ketrell asked her.

"Just kidding, sir!"

"Oh and get the weapons fixed!" Adair yelled.

"Alright! I will!" she said.

Dalarsh and her engineering team packed up and left the shuttle. Three of them picked up the shuttle hatch and pushed it into place where it locked, barely. Adair and Ketrell took seats at the front of the shuttle and turned on the engines. The shuttle rocked back and forth as the antigravity thrusters engaged.

"Here goes nothing," Ketrell said.

"Speak for yourself," Adair countered.

The port shuttlebay doors opened and the shuttle flew out through the forcefield, barely. As soon as it cleared the ship, the two officers laid in a course for Farius Prime and went to warp.

* * *

A few hours later, the shuttle dropped out of warp after losing a nacelle. Luckily, they had made it into the Farius system by then.

"Start scanning for that transponder signal," Ketrell ordered.

"Already found it," Adair told him, "but it's not transmitting medical stats like its supposed to."

"Damn," Ketrell said, "She must have been discovered. They either removed it or killed her. Either way, she's dead."

"C'est la vie," Adair said, "Now what?"

"Now we have to fill out a LOT of paperwork," Ketrell complained, "but we have to get back to Solaris first, which could be a problem with one nacelle."

"Uh, speaking of problems..." Adair said, looking out the front window. Ketrell glanced up and saw a Sovereign Class starship, painted nearly all black, with obvious weapons platforms all across its hull. All the windows had been tinted and it had no license markings along the nacelles, clearly indicating it was evil. The only thing that was written across the hull were the words "OSS Hairball," and below that "KAT-02" as a registration number.

"Oh, crap," Ketrell said. However, the six hundred eighty-five metre long vessel simply passed slowly over them.

"Well," Adair said, reading a console, "Fifty-six disruptor cannons, twenty three phaser arrays, ten torpedo launchers covering all sides of the ship, and I'm picking up photon, quantum, and tricobalt torpedo signatures...lots of them."

"We have to follow them," Ketrell said, "Are there any blind spots on their sensors?"

"Actually, yes," Adair replied, "All the nadion emissions from all their weapons have interacted with their plasma exhaust, making a convenient mixture that interferes with their aft sensors. If we stay right behind them, they'll never see us."

"Setting a course," Ketrell turned the shuttle around and put it between the Hairball's warp nacelles.

"Please no one look out a window right now," Ketrell said, then, "Well, they've set a course for Earth...fancy that."

Adair slammed his forehead against his console and let out a sigh.

"Why does everyone in the entire universe hate us?" he said to no one in particular.

"Is that a rhetorical question or would you like an answer?" Ketrell asked.

"That's it," the human said, getting angry, "That's the last fucking straw. I don't care how much energy it takes, or how many ships, but we're moving the fucking homeworld somewhere where no one can find us!"

To Be Continued...again...


	3. Chapter 3

Star Trek: The Solaris Chronicles

Episode 1 - More Ways to Skin A Cat

By Swordtail

Part Three

"Commander," Lieutenant Tevarin said, "Getting a distress signal over here...it's coming from the USS Whocares."

Commander Ren turned to talk to him.

"I don't care, we're in the middle of a mission," she said.

"Admiral Nelix was on that ship," Tevarin told her, "He was heading back to Earth on it."

Ren sighed.

"We'd better go check it out then," she said, "Drop a message buoy to let the captain know where we went. Frell, lay in a–"

"We're here," the helmswoman said. On the viewscreen, the warp threshold gave way to a view of a heavily damaged Akira class starship, adrift in space. Part of its hull had been vapourized and one of the nacelles had been severed from its pylon.

"Well then," Ren said, "Start beaming people aboard."

A few minutes later, Commander Ren walked into Solaris' sickbay. Doctor Samson and various blue-shirts were milling around fixing up injured crewmembers from the USS Whocares. She walked over to Admiral Nelix, who was on a biobed.

"Admiral," she addressed him, "are you OK?"

"Commander..." Nelix replied, faintly, "I don't have much time..."

"Not according to this bioscan, you're only about to lose consciousness."

"A state from which I may never recover."

"No I'm pretty sure–"

"I just want you to know," he said, "That out of all the ships in the Ninth Fleet, I hate yours the least."

"Thanks, sir."

"Don't get me wrong, I still hate your guts. All of your guts. And the bolts that make up your ship too."

"That's great sir," Ren said.

"And if Command let me, I'd still kill you all in your sleep"

"Permission to punch you in the face, sir?"

"I'll take care of that," Samson said, pushing Ren out of the way and injecting something into the high-ranking cat. He promptly fell asleep.

"So how many survivors are there?" Ren asked Samson.

"Well I don't like to count my chickens before they hatch," he replied.

"Is that another obscure human saying that went right over my head?"

"You'd think a person with 300 years of experience would pick up on those easily," the doctor said.

"I'm unjoined you twit!" Ren yelled in his face, "I would hope that of anyone on the ship _you_ would at least know that!"

"As I said, I don't like to count my chickens before they hatch."

The doctor went back to tending to Admiral Nelix while Ren walked out of sickbay.

"Man I wish I had read the fine print when I accepted this assignment."

* * *

Onboard the OSS Hairball, Chester's evil flagship, the undercover Lieutenant Sa'lol was walking down an evil corridor, thinking out loud.

"...Light a man on fire..?"

She entered the bridge, where Chester, perched on a solid latinum chair, was barking orders at his henchmen.

"And you, I don't want to hear about cracks in the dylithium matrix again," he hissed, "just fix it!"

He turned to Sa'lol.

"Ah, Sa'lol, my completely trustworthy science office. You missed the battle," he told her.

"Battle?" the Vulcan asked.

"Yeah, a Federation ship got in our way. We had to disable them," Chester said.

"Oh.." Sa'lol said, surprised that no one told her, "That's terrible...for them."

"Yes it is," the cat replied, "But that's not why I called you up here. How much biology do you known?"

"A bit," she answered.

"Good," Chester continued, now practically drowning in his own ego, "I want you to develop a virus that will only kill blue-eyed Mexicans."

Sa'lol raised an eyebrow, more shocked at what Chester had asked for than the fact he was planning on killing millions on Earth's inhabitants.

"You want me to do what?" she asked.

"I know it sounds like underkill, but all we want to do is throw the planet into chaos long enough for my Gorn friends to arrive and destroy Starfleet Command."

"Uh, so why just blue-eyed Mexicans?" Sa'lol asked again, "Why not kill people who are genetically inclined to resist change, thus leaving you with a pathetically lazy population who couldn't care less about the shift in government?"

"Look," Chester pointed a clawed paw at her, "I'll come up with the plans, you just make the virus. Ka-peesh?"

Sa'lol rolled her eyes and went over to her station on the dark and dreary bridge. As she muttered about feline stupidity, she saw something on her monitor that made her blink a few times.

"Well hello, sensor glitch," she whispered to herself.

* * *

On the flying box of bolts that the Solaris crew had paid fourteen slips of gold pressed latinum for, Ketrell and Adair were bored stiff. They had managed to get themselves pulled inside the OSS Hairball's warp field, but that's about all the excitement they had endured for the past few hours.

"Any idea where we are?" Adair asked, not for the first time.

"No," Ketrell said, again, "the sensor interference that's keeping us hidden is also keeping us blind."

"God I'm so bored, I just with _something_ would happen!"

As soon as the words had left his mouth, they both disappeared in a transporter beam. They materialized in a science lab of some sort. Standing in front of them, working a console, was Sa'lol.

"Oh, hi guys!" she said. Ketrell and Adair, who had been sitting when transported, fell to the floor.

"Lieutenant!" they both said in unison, "You're alive!"

"You can't get rid of me that easily, sirs," she said.

"Apparently not," Ketrell said, getting up, "What happened to the implant?"

"When you guys didn't answer," Sa'lol explained, "I figured you'd left, so I removed the transponder. I decided it would just be a liability, if Chester got smart."

"So why did you remove it again," Adair asked, grinning.

"A better question," Ketrell said, "would be where are we and why are we going where we're going?"

"I don't really know," Sa'lol said, "The Orion Syndicate doesn't exactly keep ship's logs like we do. We attacked a Federation starship, and we're on our way to Earth. Chester wants me to develop a bioweapon that kills blue-eyed Mexicans."

"Why, does he have something against Hispanics?" Adair asked.

"No clue," the Lieutenant told him, "but you guys better hide somewhere. I doubt a human and a Bajoran would go unnoticed on this ship...despite how stupid the crew is."

The three of them left the science lab and crept down the corridor, making sure no one was around.

"Can you believe that new barkeep gave me alcohol-free beer?" Adair said, just to make small talk.

"Is that the same ensign that keeps hitting on me?" Sa'lol asked. Adair rolled his eyes.

"Lieutenant," he said, "do I have to quote the rule book?"

"I'm telling you she hits on me every time I order a drink!"

"Solaris ship rule #47: The waitresses are NOT flirting with you, they're just doing their job!"

"She is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"You're just jealous because she never hits on you when you order a drink," Sa'lol said.

"I am not," Adair countered.

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Both of you shut up!" Ketrell yelled, a little too loud. They all looked around to make sure no one had heard them.

"Lieutenant, the bar girl is _not_ hitting on you. Lieutenant-Commander, you _are_ jealous," he said.

"She is too!"

"I am not!"

"That wasn't up for debate!" the captain told them. The other two officers decided to shut up, as Sa'lol pushed them into a vacant broom closet and shut the door. Inside, Adair, still fuming, turned and was about to say something when Ketrell threw up his hand.

"Ah!" he said, quickly, "Don't make me quote the 33rd rule to you."

"But–"

"Ship rule #33," Ketrell quoted, "Shut the fuck up."

* * *

On the bridge of Solaris, all was quiet and peaceful, for the most part.

"Commander," Tevarin said, "Engineering reports that the phaser banks are back online. Torpedo launchers will be operational within the next two hours."

"Well it's about time," Ren said, "Now if only we had something to shoot at."

"I might be able to help you there," Frell said.

"Well don't keep it to yourself, Lieutenant."

"Lieutenant Sa'lol," Frell said, "once mentioned something about leaving a trail of ions which are polarized to a certain frequency, or something like that...well, there's such a trail right in front of us."

"Oh," Ren said, scratching her head, "how convenient..."

"Uh, I just told you that Lieutenant Sa'lol said–"

"Just follow the damn thing."

Frell hit a few buttons on her console and Solaris changed course. However, when she pressed the button that would engage the warp engines, the ship's engines sputtered and the lights went out.

"OK," Ren said, "I officially hate this ship."

* * *

On deck 14, in Main Engineering, Lieutenant-Commander Dalarsh was yelling orders at her subordinates when Lieutenant Tevarin walked in.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I don't know," the Andorian said, picking up a fifty centimetre long lead pipe and waving it in the general direction of the warp core, "It just shut down as soon as the helm requested warp power."

"Why did everything else shut down too?" Tevarin asked, tapping on a blank console.

"I don't know!" Dalarsh yelled, getting frustrated at her department's inability to diagnose a simple problem.

"Look," Tevarin told her in a hushed voice, "the Commander is getting a little pissed; that's why I volunteered to come down here when the comm failed to work. Now, I need to tell her something or else she's likely to flip out on one of us."

"This fucking ship just hates us!" Dalarsh practically screamed. Then, in a fit of rage, she threw the pipe at the warp core. It hit the reaction chamber with a loud clang. Oddly enough, the warp core instantly activated, the power came back on, and Solaris jumped to warp, leaving a very surprised Dalarsh, Tevarin, and some confused yellow-shirts standing around the now operational room.

"Well," Dalarsh said, "I didn't see _that_ coming!"

* * *

"We're approaching the Sol system, sire" one of Chester's brain-dead henchmen said to him. On the OSS Hairball's bridge, Chester was gazing happily at Earth, which had just come onscreen. Sa'lol was rolling her eyes and trying not to throw up.

"Excellent," Chester said, "Is the bioweapon ready?"

"Ready enough," Sa'lol told him.

"Then fire as soon as we're in range," the cat ordered.

Sa'lol pressed a button and whispered into her console while everyone else was distracted.

"Sa'lol to Ketrell," she said, "Solaris is on long range sensors, they'll be here in a few minutes. You need to disable the Hairball's weapons before they arrive or it will be a short battle."

Sa'lol released the button and started the pre-launch sequence for the bioweapon. Meanwhile, Ketrell and Adair, who had received Sa'lol's message, were sneaking around the nearly vacant corridors, looking for ways to disable the ship's weapons. They slipped into a small control room which contained some consoles and a few wall monitors.

"Is this it?" Ketrell asked.

"Yes," Adair answered, "Weapons control."

"Can you disable the weapons from here?"

"Not without them noticing...but I can set up a feedback loop between the launcher subassembly and the ship-board torpedo guidance targeting array."

"What will that do," the Bajoran asked, confused.

"Let's just say we won't want to be onboard if they decide to fire a torpedo."

* * *

On the evil bridge of the evil OSS Hairball, everyone was watching as Earth got bigger and bigger on the viewscreen.

"I wonder where Starfleet is?" one of the numerous henchmen asked.

"We won't have to worry about Starfleet for a while," Chester said, "The Gorn should be here any minute. Starfleet is probably still rebuilding their forces. They'll never know what hit them."

He turned to Sa'lol.

"Fire the bioweapon torpedo!"

Sa'lol, oblivious to Adair's sabotage, pressed the fire button and the ship exploded around them. Beams fell from the ceiling, consoles blew into showers of sparks, killing henchmen, the lights flickered, the bridge lurched hard to aft. Chester, attached to the ceiling by his claws, let go and fell back into his chair.

"What happened!" he hissed at Sa'lol. The Vulcan, who was slightly confused, checked some readouts, and then started grinning.

"The torpedo detonated in the tube," she said, "The virus is dispersing throughout the ship."

"Well it's a good thing I never hired any blue-eyed Mexicans then," Chester noted.

"Um," Sa'lol started, "I programmed the weapon to kill you."

Chester, who instantly comprehended her treason, let his face drop.

"I hate when this happens," he said, "Someone restrain her and take the science station."

A nameless henchman pushed Sa'lol into the hands of other nameless henchmen and took her seat.

"Sire!" he yelled as he read the sensor logs, "The USS Solaris is on an intercept course! They'll be here in-"

The ship rocked as Solaris opened fire on the damaged Hairball.

"Return fire, but don't use torpedoes," Chester ordered, then, "And someone execute her."

As a henchman pulled a phaser out and aimed it at Sa'lol, the Vulcan was transported away. She materialized alongside Ketrell and Adair in Solaris' transporter room.

"So," Ketrell asked Sa'lol, "what happened with the bioweapon?"

"I programmed the virus to kill only Chester," she told them as they left the transporter room.

"Where did you get that idea from?" Adair inquired.

"Some old guy said something weird and it got me thinking."

"What did he say?" Ketrell asked her.

"He said 'Give a man a match and he'll be warm for a few minutes, but light a man on fire and he'll be warm for the rest of his life.' I didn't understand it either."

Adair burst out laughing.

"I love that joke!" he said, doubling over, "It gets funnier every time I hear it!"

"Uh," Sa'lol said, "anyway, it got me thinking about Chester's plans for galactic domination and I figured that he could have earth, but I might as well set it up so he'll rule it for the rest of his life once he steps foot there"

"So you infected him with a virus?" Adair said, impressed.

"Well I didn't intend for it to blow the ship half apart in the process, but yes."

"You're sick, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir."

The three officers stepped onto the bridge and took their seats.

"Report," Adair said.

"Chester is hailing us," Ren said.

"On screen."

Chester, looking sick, appeared onscreen.

"What did you guys do to me" he yelled.

"Infected you with a fatal and painful disease," Sa'lol said.

"You'll all pay for this! Gunnery officer, open fire!"

Solaris shook under the impact.

"Shields are down to 78," Adair said.

"You know," Sa'lol said, pacing around the bridge, "if you destroy us you'll destroy the only cure there is to your predicament."

Chester's face dropped even more.

"You're going to make me surrender aren't you?" he said.

"Yep," Ketrell said, "Unconditionally."

"NO!" Chester yelled, "FUCK YOU!"

The channel cut and Solaris shook under the impact of another attack.

"Tactical," Ren ordered, dramatically, "Target their warp core and fire."

In space, Solaris assaulted the Sovereign-like ship with a barrage of phaser fire aimed at its engineering hull.

"Their containment field is destabilizing," Tevarin said, "Warp core breach is imminent."

"Back us away!" Ketrell said. The Hairball was launching escape pods when its warp core finally breached. The evil ship went up in a massive ball of flaming debris, destroying several escape pods and battering Solaris. After it was over, everyone on the Federation ship's bridge pulled themselves from the floor.

"Any survivors?" Ketrell wondered.

"I'm picking up one escape pod off the starboard bow," Tevarin told him, "It's Chester."

"Captain," Sa'lol said, wide eyed, "Those Gorn ships that were entering the system..."

"What about them, Lieutenant?" Ren asked.

"They've...turned around. I guess without Chester they have no reason to risk a war."

"Well," Ketrell said, smiling, "That mission went well. A little more excitement that I expected but–"

"Excitement?" Adair said, "We were bored stiff half the time!"

"I sure hope this kind of thing doesn't become a regular occurrence for us," Ren said, "or I'm outta here."

* * *

Inside the Earth Spacedock, Solaris came to a stop at the docking core. In an airlock, Fleet Admiral Spot waited as Ketrell, carrying a bandaged Admiral Nelix, and Commander Ren, Lieutenant Commander Adair and Dalarsh, Lieutenants Frell, Sa'lol, and Tevarin, and Doctor Samson, pulling a leashed Chester, walked off their ship.

"I assume the mission went well, then?" Spot asked, shooting a glare at Chester.

"That miserable excuse for a feline has been arrested, ma'am," Nelix said, "Again."

"You'll never keep me locked up," Chester said, chewing on his leash, "As soon as I get my strength back you're all dead! DEAD!"

"Chester," Admiral Spot recited, "you're charged with inciting rebellion, high treason, murder, money laundering, operating a starship without a license, organized crime, and plotting to commit genocide."

"And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for these meddling kids and their damned Vulcan."

"Boys, take him away," Spot ordered. Two security officers grabbed the leash and dragged the evil cat away.

* * *

Later on, the entire crew of Solaris was at their posts on the bridge.

"Helm," Ketrell said, "take us out."

As Solaris backed out of the massive Spacedock, Ren turned to Ketrell.

"Do you think we're really seen the last of Chester and the Orion Syndicate?" she asked.

"I somehow doubt it," Ketrell said, "But hopefully we won't be the ones to go after him next time."

"Captain," Dalarsh said, "All systems are back online as of right now, including torpedo launchers."

"Well it's about time," Adair commented.

"We've cleared the station," Frell said.

"Set a course," Ren ordered, "bearing 143 mark 218. Warp 6."

The Ares Class starship turned around and the sound of the warp engines powering up could be heard throughout the ship, only to be followed by the sound of them shutting down, along with everything else.

"Alright," Dalarsh said, sitting in the dark, "where's my lead pipe?"

The End

USS Solaris - Ninth Fleet

NCC-82470

"Going boldly where no one has gone before is overrated"


End file.
